


White Dove

by HauntingOpal



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Character Write In, Daryl Deserves a Kind Family, F/M, First Episodes, First Season, Married Daryl Dixon, Protective Daryl Dixon, We Love Daryl Dixon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HauntingOpal/pseuds/HauntingOpal
Summary: A young woman is shocked when the world begins to lose it's  mind, as the dead begin to walk again. Winifred can only keep fighting, holding those she loves most as close as she can.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	White Dove

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun little one shot I've had sitting around awhile and just thought I'd toss it out. Hope you enjoy xx

Chapter 1// Young Thing

The gunshots echo throughout the fallen city and Lincoln raises a hand to his eyes as he looks up at the roof of the nearby buildings. His heart races at the stranger’s reckless actions. “Fucking idiot.” A soft voice spits. Lincoln glances at Winifred beside him and he smiles fondly. The smile doesn’t last long as the sound of groaning grows louder. He presses a hand to his chest. He felt entirely too old for an apocalypse. 

Lincoln passes an energy bar to the boy strapped to Wini’s back and presses his lips together firmly. Their chances of a safe supply run were shit now. They’d need a new plan soon. Atlanta had been overtaken. 

He turns toward the girl beside him.“Hey Sweets, we ain’t gonna have long before we movin’. Those gunshots are gonna attract the dead.” Lincoln snorts to himself. “Attract  _ more _ dead.” He wasn’t stupid enough to believe there was anywhere safe anymore. Best to keep moving, keep surviving. It was all that was left. 

The thin woman at his side raises an eyebrow over her binoculars as she watches walkers swarm the building the other survivors had gone into. Wiping sweat off her brow, she leans back. “This may sound insane, but I think in that building is my brother.” She glances over at him with a frown when he laughs. Her mouth twists sourly. Lincoln misses when Wini used to smile.  _ Can’t give up yet. One day. _

Her instincts (anxieties, she calls them) had saved them many times and while he was physically strong, he’d watched her go days in agony without a sound to keep them safe. Lincoln rubs a rough palm over his mouth and tilts further on the low balcony. “You’re right, Sweets, sounds insane.” And even as he says that, Lincoln lifts his gun and begins picking off walkers to clear a path for them to travel through. 

“This is gonna hafta be fast and clea--What the fuck are they doin’?” Winifred sucks her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches two men dart out from under the car across the road. “Sweets, are they covered ‘n guts?”

“Why didn’t we think of this?” Wini hisses. “Benji-”

“Is in danga’ if we cover ‘im in it. He’s too much like his momma, gotta always be clean.” Lincoln teases, unsurprised by the huff he gets in response. He lifts a hand as it begins to rain and soon walkers are racing away from them, after the loud vehicles rumbling in the distance. “Now, Sweets. Keep in front of me.” 

The doors of the building are already shattered and they pick their way across the bloody glass. Immediately, hands are grabbing for her and Winifred picks her way through the moving corpses. She spies the stairwell and Lincoln pushes her forward, covering her from behind. Lincoln’s thudding steps spur her on as he follows her up. “We’re gonna hafta find you somewhere to hunker down soon.” Lincoln grunts as he slams his blade into a decaying skull. Winifred presses a hand to her slightly rounded stomach and agrees. They get past the few dead quickly, Lincoln already pushing her toward the stock room.

The heavy door leading to the back room is chained shut and Wini pinches the skin of her collar bone in irritation. The sharp sting focuses her further as her body shakes with adrenalin. Lincoln nudges her aside, digging through the bag swung over his shoulder. “Always be prepared,” he chuckles as he holds up a new-looking pair of bolt cutters.

“Think they’re bitten?” Winifred asks quietly as Lincoln cuts the chain with a few well-placed snips. 

“I think it’s likely. Why else would you chain them up?” Lincoln raises his gun. “Outside in.”

“Hallelujah,” Wini grouches as she kicks the door open in irritation. She squints against the bright sun and firms her grip on her knife. 

Merle’s head shoots up at the close sound of metal on metal and he glances down at his freshly bleeding wrist. He pauses, sniffles and rubs his nose. A voice murmurs something to his left and his gun is kicked away from him. “Fuckin’ redneck,” a dark skinned man who looks vaguely familiar to his high mind grunts. Merle prepares himself to kick out, but a knife pressing into his cheek brings him to a pause.

“I’ll be damned.” The woman in front of him crosses her thin arms as she stares him down. “Merle Fucking Dixon.” Merle squints, but doesn’t recognise her. “I’d know those eyes anywhere.” 

_ The bar is rowdy for being so late and she shuffles nervously from her spot behind the counter. She rises to her tip-toes as she passes another drink to the worn man in front of her. She catches only a glimpse of bright blue eyes before he looks away. “Free drink for a story,” she offers. He scoffs. Her cheeks heat and she carefully keeps her eyes on the counter in front of her. She begins cleaning it for the 5th time that hour, just to keep her shaking hands busy.  _

_ “A’ight, fine. Can’t stand ya damn fidgetin’. Got a story ‘bout my brother. He’s gotten in-ta some scrapes.” He grunts out around the nail he’s biting. Wini sets another glass in front of him, keeps her eyes on the bar, and listens.  _

_ As he tells her about his brother teaching him to track small game, her hands slowly begin to stop shaking, and the yells of the patrons no longer seem to loud. “One time, fuckin’ bastard came home fucked up and as soon as he hit the couch, spewed chunks. When he woke up tha’ next evenin’, he face planted right in-ta it. Funniest shit I’d eva’ seen.” _

_ Wini laughs softly, drying the wet glass in hand, “He sounds lovely.” _

_The man snorts, eyes narrowing as he stares into his empty glass. “Yeah, a real fuckin’ peach, princess.”_ _Winifred sets another shot in front of him with a shy smile._

_ “Got any more stories?” _

Her head snaps up at the quiet whimper behind her. “Alright Lin, let’s do this. We don’t have all day.” Yanking her gun from the back of her leggings, she shoots once through the chain of the handcuffs, and tosses Merle a water. “Sober up, you sack of shit. You’re taking us back to your group.” 

Merle laughs, even as he gulps his water. “Now why would I do that?” 

Winifred cocks her gun and lightly taps his nose with the tip. “Cause I’ll blow your fucking dick off if you don’t. Ain’t much besides sex and drugs left for you is there, _Merle_?” She practically hisses his name as she begins shoving him toward the door they’d entered through. As they reach the door frame, she pushes him back behind her and keeps both hands filled with a knife and her gun. Who knew the lessons her brother gave during her early teen years would be so useful. 

Lincoln chuckles as he finishes cleaning up the spilled tools, moving . “Sweets, once Merle is in the truck, I’ll cover ya while ya run ahead for the bag this ass dropped.” A guttural sound reverberates up the tall stairwell and Wini gives an uncomfortable shrug at the weight tugging at her shoulders. She tightens the straps of the carrier around her waist and shoulders, and wipes her blade on the cloth hanging at her hip. 

With Merle between them, his gun back in hand, they move deftly down the hall. Wini pulls a screwdriver from the side pocket of her backpack and slams it into the empty eye-socket of the first dead. It falls with a squelch and she stomps past with a scowl. They make quick work of the dead between them and their truck, Merle’s racist comments about Lincoln falling on deaf ears as the group fights through. Wini tugs her sweaty hoodie from her chest and wishes for the chill of autumn. She keeps to the shade of the truck. 

As Merle settles into the truck bed, Winifred tosses everything she carries into the passenger seat, except her lightest weapons, and throws her hoodie over her supplies. Benji allows himself to be pulled from her back and into the cab of the truck. She tucks her shirt into the waistband of her leggings. She’d learned the hard way clothes were safer the tighter they were, but even roaming carcasses couldn’t cure her self-conscious nature. Merle’s quiet, “ _ Holy shit, _ ” is the last thing she hears as she fights her way toward the abandoned car. 

Her shoulders burn with every twist, and she can tell the skin is raw from carrying her young son around on her back, but she keeps swinging. She raises the short sword Lincoln had taken from a museum sometime during the beginning, and hacks through a skull of a bleach blonde zombie, whose pink-coated lips and chomping teeth had gotten too close for comfort to her arm. Wini dodges the falling corpses Lincoln shoots down, and sighs in relief at the sight of the bag exactly where they’d last seen it. Good luck was a rare thing nowadays. 

\--

The sun is beginning to lower in the sky as they pull over in the empty guard station at the front of the National Park. Merle snatches a brochure off the pollen and dirt covered bench, pointing a filthy hand at the part of the park the others were in. Lincoln drives with the sound of soft jazz drifting from the CD player and Winifred’s small feet in his lap. The sound of arguing grows more and more obvious as they make it closer to the spot Merle pointed too.

“--Left that asshole to rot? How’s that fair!” A man growls out, his worn shirt tight where he’s flexed in anger. His fisted hands move rapidly as if he’s expecting hits that aren’t coming. Winifred watches as a heavy utility belt filled with weapons fly through the air, though moments later, the man is tackled down before he has his chance to lunge. Wini fights her urge to run and hide. She pulls on a loose dark red long-sleeve shirt she’d stolen from her husband, nervously tucking the end around her knees, and watches the men freeze as their truck nears. She releases her hip-length hair from its bun and runs her fingers through the loose messy curls. It only serves to frizz it more. She huffs and a face presses into her knees and she brushes a clammy hand through her son’s hair, both to offer and receive comfort. 

Daryl reaches for his knife, and the tense atmosphere thickens. The rest of the group turns toward the road as the truck sputters to a stop. Merle jumps out first, a mocking smirk dancing on his lips, with Lincoln following with a quiet slam of his door. Winifred hesitates.  _ This is too good to be true. It’s not real. Not real. _

“Merle? Who are these people?” A man she knows steps up toward Lincoln. Winifred tightens her hand in her son’s shirt, keeping him low and hidden. 

“Fuckin’ cunts. Left me up there for walker bait. Lucky the little druggie and her coal-man were there looking out for me.” Merle puffs his chest out and offers the leader a nasty smile. Lincoln steps behind Merle and smacks the back of his head. Daryl takes a step back, raises his knife higher with a confused grimace on his mouth. 

“Even yor daddy, little Merle Dixon, knew betta’ than to spit shit ‘bout me.” Merle tenses, but says nothing else. Wini isn’t surprised. Lincoln was an intimidating man, especially for being 62. He was 6 foot 3 and was somewhere over 200 lbs, mainly muscle, even with small rations these days. Winifred watches as Daryl focuses on the pale yellow truck she hadn’t crawled out of yet. There was a furrow in his brow. He would recognize it well. 

A curly haired man steps forward and raises his gun toward her in the truck. Wini tenses. “Out of the truck with your hands up.” 

Slowly, to create more tension because she knows Lincoln will get a kick out of it, she slowly lowers the old crank window that grinds to a stop halfway down. She sticks her arm out of the window and flashes the bird at the man. She then raises the window (slowly yet again, and she smiles at Benji’s soft laugh) and leans her head back with a sigh. She’d come out when Lincoln gave the signal, not a second before. 

She knew it wasn’t a smart idea to irritate the group or come off as more of an asshole than she already was, but fear had her heart fluttering and she kept one hand on her son and the other curled around the hilt of her blade. She watches the man who had his gun pointed at her step closer, and she bites her lip before sliding herself to the passenger door. Lincoln’s head lowers slightly, raising again. Keeping her knife in hand, she steps out, though she stays behind the door. Merle keeps himself blocking his brother’s view, mouth moving quickly and quietly. Lincoln keeps his gun held up, but Wini can feel his protective gaze on her. 

“I’m Lori. What’s your name?” A soft voice asks from over another's shoulder. Wini firms her mouth and slouches lower, silently grateful she’s so short and able to hide more of her body. She hadn’t thought this through.  _ Stupid. Stupid. Who’ve thought Dixon’s ran with groups? _

Across the clearing, Carl watches as the truck door opens and a slight figure slides from it. Shane raises his gun, ignoring Rick calling him. Carl sees his mom focused on the men and moves toward the newcomers truck. The woman keeps her eyes on Rick, so Carl manages to make it to the driver side unnoticed.

A hazel eyed boy stares up at him deeply from the floorboard before smiling shyly at Carl. Benji scrambles across the floor to lower the window. Wini turns quickly at the sudden movement, freaking Shane who shoots wildly toward her. She throws herself back and rushes to the other side of the truck. She pulls both boys toward the back of the truck. “You fucking bastard!” She growls out.

“Wini!” She hears Lincoln yell out. A hand presses into her shoulder and she lets out a pained cry. 

“Mommy’s hurt!” Benji cries out hysterically. “Grandpa! Mommy’s bleeding!” Benji fidgets in her arms until she has to set him down to keep from injuring herself worse. She gasps and tries to grab him as he darts away from her. The taller boy she’d grabbed, settles a hand on her lower back and frowns at her worriedly. 

“Dad!” He yells out. “Her shoulder’s hit.” 

Winifred sputters in shock before quickly shaking her head. “Who’s your dad?” She raises her knife in panic as rapid footsteps come around the side of the car. She nearly faints, both from blood loss, lack of food and real sleep, and the fact  _ her older brother was standing in front of her. _

Carl raises a hand to point, “Rick Grimes.” he says proudly. Winifred feels her face pale and she presses a shaking hand to her eyes. Her instincts had been right again, she knew she’d seen him, felt him near. 

“Benji! Come back to Mommy!” Wini calls, her tone tinged with desperation. Lincoln pushes past Rick to get to her, and her panic grows when he is childless. 

“What the fuck was that?” Rick turns to Shane. Her eyes are growing heavy, and the heat of a large figure at her back has her nerves on edge. She can barely turn to look before her vision is black, but she has enough time to see vivid blue eyes.

Winifred wakes up with a throbbing in her shoulder and raised voices filling her ears. Benji is curled up asleep against her back and she breathes out deep, the knot in her chest loosening. She presses a hand to the underside of her belly, standing up cautiously but she feels alright.

A tan hand pushes open the flap of the tent, Daryl Dixon zipping it closed behind him, leaving his boots on as he turns to settle in a chair. He freezes mid-step, taking in her wide eyes. For a moment, she watches his eyes begin to water, his bottom lip caught tight between his teeth. “Wini,” he rasps out. She wants to run to him, but even with the apocalypse, she hadn’t seen her husband in 3 months. She’d found Benji the first day of the End, the young boy running from his own undead mother. Wini had snatched him up and they’d been together since. 

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, eying him as he settles himself on the end of the bed. She shifts until she’s crawling into his lap and then she’s  _ sobbing.  _ “I’ve been so scared I lost ya, when ya didn’t come back afta’ Merle and then the neighbors came to the house—“ 

His hands curl around her upper arms tightly and he pulls her tight to his chest and he chokes back his urge to cry. She can hear him swallow from her position tucked into his neck. She feels him tense and realizes he can feel the bump of her stomach against his own. Her shoulder twinges as she shifts.

She sits up, eyes wide and bashful, “Surprise?” She grasps his hand setting it on her stomach, and he caresses her stomach softly. “You’re a daddy.” 

Daryl turns to look at Benji, curled up tight where she’d been sleeping, and he smiles, so soft and shy and Wini feels her heart clench. “Think I already am.” He leans forward pressing a kiss to her mouth and she sighs happily. 

She stays in his lap for the next hour, trading soft kisses, before Merle’s loud voice cuts through the love-filled haze. 


End file.
